


Déjà vu

by ThePseudonym



Category: Bastion
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePseudonym/pseuds/ThePseudonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kid meets some of the Survivors before the Calamity. What danger will follow the Kid this time? What will he remember?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS AUTHORS NOTE IS NEEDED TO UNDERSTAND THE STORY  
> Okay, so The Kid chooses Restoration, and The Bastion resets everything, and everyone loses their memories as well. However, for the purpose of the game story-line, the Calamity ALSO wipes their memories, so they wouldn't remember these encounters. I hope that makes sense.  
> Thanks for reading.

The Kid grunted when he collided with the ground, hitting a rock with his knee. Silently cursing Olak for his less-than-soft landing, he struggled up, only to be confronted with a Cinderbrick apron. The kind of ones that only Mancers have.

It was said that they received one at their graduation to protect themselves from the raw amount of void they mess with up there in the Observatory.

Sure, The Kid had been to the Observatory before, on a field trip. But that was only to the visitor's centre, and the scene before him is a whole different place. Squirts were floating around carrying supplies while Caelondians used blowtorches and all manner of tools never seen on the Walls on various projects.

"What are you doing here? This area is for government personnel only." said the owner of the apron in a very bored tone, as if he thought he was qualified for much more.

The Kid raised his head and got up, an old man with a kindly face and a crutch entering his vision.

The elder peered at him as if noticing for the first time that he was a teenager, while simultaneously, The Kid started up at the man with the same curiosity, trying to place the face that seemed so familiar, yet did not exist in his memories. With difficulty, The Kid focused on what the man was saying.

"Forgive my old memories, but have we met..."  _before?_ The Kid finished silently in his head, again trying to think where the man was from.

Shaking his head, The Stranger focused on the current subject, but not before making a joke on The Kid's expense. "Maybe it was just a family resemblance" he joked, referencing the similarity in hair colour, "I'm Rucks."

He held out his hand, and The Kid grasped the hand formally, while flashes of a girl his own age, and a young man, both Ura, flashed before his eyes for a millisecond.

The man, now identified as Rucks, brought him back from his own thoughts via a question. "So you're who The Marshals sent? I surprised it's a Kid.” He paused, as if waiting for The Kid to interrupt, but carried on when nothing happened. “But I guess you can't disagree with the law now can you?" The Kid merely nodded shortly, being led around the laboratory towards a project that seemed to have the most commotion around it.

There was steam creating its own microclimate around the chassis, and a continuous supply of a coolant The Kid couldn’t identify being pumped into it. As The Kid got closer towards it, the city crest on his back hummed with vibrations. With every step he took, the reverberations seemed to get more violent. Rucks just glanced at The Kid's back, and scribbled something down on a notepad he'd picked up from a passing desk, muttering something that sounded like 'Core'. Before The Kid could ask about it, they were intersected and joined by a tall Ura, proceeding ever closer to the machinery.

As soon as the Ura man walked within earshot along the other side of The Kid, Rucks went completely still. Examining the man's face, The Kid was once again struck with a headache brought on by gaps in his memory. The man briefly introduced himself as Venn, and then directly briefed him on the situation.

Apparently, whenever they turned on the machine for a test run, windbags appear out of nowhere and started to attack the conductors that kept the observatory running. "That's why," Venn said in a slight accent, "We needed the marshal's best fighters to hold them off while we test it out to see what needs to be adjusted" he paused for a second or two, casting an eye over The Kid, clearly un-impressed. "However, it seems they've made a mistake. We asked for at least 10 of the best fighters to hold them off. Almost 80 windbags come at once; no way even **one**  man with the highest grade weapons could hold them off, let alone a Kid with a simple hammer...” He sighed in sympathy.

“I’m sorry Kid, but you'll have to go back." Almost as if the God’s were listening, the glass floor of the observatory suddenly shook and groaned, a deafening klaxon sounding, drowning out any conversation on the floor.

~~~~

Immediately, everyone ran for a bunker on the far side of the observatory, designed to withstand out-of-control projects.

At first, The Kid was absolutely dumbfounded, but then he turned around, and saw the hundreds of Gasfellas bearing down on the workshop, blotting out the sun.

Rucks and Venn sprinted towards the machine, with The Kid just behind them, where half the scientists were scurrying over the gears, while the other (more intelligent) half were just cutting their losses and running full-pelt for cover.

"WHO IN THE NAME OF JEVEL TURNED ON THE MACHINE?" Venn screamed over the klaxon, "THE DAMAGE THOSE WINDBAGS WILL CREATE WILL SET BACK THIS PROJECT BY A YEAR!"

The Kid might have been imagining it, but to him, Venn didn't seem too unhappy at the prospect.

However, despite this, the remaining scientists cowered and quailed under his gaze, while Rucks, obviously the second in command, tried to calm him down. "There's nothing we can do now, we have to take shelter!" After a few seconds of arguing, the Ura eventually agreed, and they all retreated towards the bunker.

Rucks was just about to follow them before he saw The Kid hadn't even moved, just staring at the oncoming horde with indifference. "COME ON!" Rucks shouted "THEY'LL KILL YOU!" The Kid just glanced back and grimaced, as if already regretting what he was about to do. He gave Rucks a look that conveyed a pretty clear message.

_You think I'm just a Kid? Watch._

Then, he signalled The Stranger to get back into the building with a flick his hand, and walked towards the invading force, hefting his Life-Long Friend from his back. He dropped the head of the weapon on the floor, while grasping the shaft and leaning it against his head, praying to Lemaign that this wouldn't be the last time they fought, the times that they'd had together...

Finishing his prayer, The Kid felt a shift in the air above him, and peeked out of one eye, only to be faced with the business end of a pick.

* * *

Rucks got back to the bunker just in time to see The Kid lifting a Cael hammer from his back, twirling it with ease as he set it down on the ground in front of the Mancer project, kneeling down behind his weapon. Now he was directly in the way of the Gasfellas and the core they wanted so bad. Course, Kid didn't know that. He almost couldn’t believe what the boy was doing. A Kid, sacrificing himself for them?  Rucks had seen that look in his eyes. The look that told of a person weary of the injustice of the world, and would do anything to change it. It pained him to see such pain in someone so young. The boy was what? 17?

Millions of windbags bearing down upon him while he just knelt there with a weapon that was supposed to be a tool.

Never moving an inch.

The horde coming ever closer and closer, until the leader lifted his pick to bring down onto the silent Kid.

SMASH!

The Kid uppercuted the windbag right in its mid-section with so much force that it disintegrated on the spot, following up the strike with the trademark secret skill of The Masons, Stunning wallop, slamming the ground. Almost half of the miners around him were knocked onto their backs, immobilizing them while The Kid sent their essence back to the mines where they came from, one by one. Rucks watched in amazement The Kid wade through swathes of foes, even with his ever growing injuries.

A misjudged roll there, a delayed dodge here.

The Kid was slowing down, drained by the conflict.

As the last few fell to his ferocity, The Kid, thinking the battle was won, allowed himself to crumple to the ground under his injuries, Gasfella Goo steaming off him.

Just then, a huge Scumbag crawled up the side of the observatory, sidling up behind The Kid.

Even with their mouths agape at witness of the carnage The Kid had just created, the scientists responded quickly at the danger looming up behind the savoir of their life's work. Shouting, screaming and waving, they tried to make The Kid aware of the danger looming up behind him. However, despite all their efforts, the bunker was designed to withstand anything, even sound.

All they could do was watch as The Kid finally heard a noise, whirling around to see a mouth descending upon him, swallowing him whole.

A Lonesome Hammer, finally parted from its friend, fell to the ground.

~~~~

As the scientists trickled out of the bunker, watching the Scumbag happily lapping up the Goo on the floor, Rucks tried to comprehend what he had just seen.

The Kid saved them all. The Kid had saved their project. Some Kid just sacrificed his life for a machine that would cause genocide.

Everyone stopped dead, their hairs sticking up on end. The air was charging up with ozone and electricity.

A lightning bolt released from the heavens, striking the scumbag, exploding it, setting the witnesses teeth chattering and their bones on edge.

As the dust cleared, there, lying on his front, was The Kid.

Lemaign had deigned his fight worthy of giving him a second chance.

As everyone gathered around him, silence fell on the group, too afraid to wake him, now knowing what he was capable of.

Then he stirred.

* * *

" _Hey, Kid."_

As words swam into his consciousness, The Kid felt like he had swallowed excessive amounts of Stabsinthe. His mouth was dry, feeling pain all over. Trying to get up, he barely got an inch before his wrists gave way and he blacked out.

_"Get up Kid."_

Swimming into consciousness again, feeling a little stronger, he tried again. This time, he got to his arms, but before his elbows could lock, they gave way, and he was engulfed by the blackness once again.

_"Come on Kid, that ain't funny, I said get up."_

Grunting with perseverance, The Kid struggled to his feet in a circle of people.

_"That's more like it."_

~~~~

Picking up his hammer and strapping it to his back, The Kid looked behind him, finding Rucks smiling at him.

This time, it reached his eyes.

"I guess you have to get back to The Marshals now eh?"

The Kid nodded the affirmative, wincing at the stiffness of his neck.

Rucks seemed to notice this, draping the boy’s arm around his neck, helping him limp back to the skyway, talking continuously. "You did a great job back there." He exclaimed, indicating the edge of the Observatory, where soot and cracks covered the floor.

"The Windbags probably won't be coming back any time soon thanks to you, so we can continue with our calibrations with no further interruptions."

Remaining silent, The Kid’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as the man's voice reverberated throughout his brain, igniting deep memories and unseen places.

However, before he could ask Rucks about them, they got to the skyway.

Smiling for once in a very long time, The Kid did a lazy two finger salute before jumping into the skyway, tossing and tumbling in the air currents, heading towards The Rippling walls looming over the horizon.

~~~~

Rucks was about to leave, before he swirled round urgently. "Hey! I didn't even catch your na-" he started, only to be confronted with an empty skyway plate and a Kid flying into the sunrise.

~~~~

When The Kid got near to the rippling walls, he prayed to the gods for a safe landing for once. Ofcourse, being Olak's source amusement for the century, they never heeded his prayers, and The Kid fell flat on face.

The Kid grumbled, making sure none of his bones were broken, when he froze.

He could hear singing.

Course, Kid has heard singing before, the harsh, drunk tones coming from The Wall's distilleries... but this... this was something else. Melodic and beautiful, it filled The Kid with joy. As his ears tuned to the sound, he caught a few words.

" _I dig my hole, you build a wall..."_

He got up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Comment and give me Kudos if you want. Like always, I’m not going to force you via blackmail or anything, but it would really help to get some feedback and constructive criticism, and would encourage me to write more regularly.


	2. Zia

_As his ears tuned to the sound, he caught 8 words. "I dig my hole you build a wall..." He gets up..._

Where was he now? Langston River maybe? That's where the Bard's college resided, on the edge of The Wilds. But he swore he directed himself towards The Walls! As his eyes focused after the collision with the ground, he breathed a sigh of relief. He  **was**  at The Walls! Thank The Mother! But where was that singing coming from?

Marshal Haven walked up to him from his command post, lifting his Carbine up in greeting. "Ahoy there Kid! I trust the mission was a success?"

The Kid nodded in confirmation, falling in step with Haven on the walk to the Captain's tent, voices issuing out of it, discussing expeditions into the wilds and such-like.

While they headed to the tent, Haven talked to the Kid. "Do'ya like the sound of the singing laddie? The wee lassie was brought here from the Bard’s college to motivate the workers. You know how down they can get in the winter, with the snow freezing their-

"Their what, Haven?" interrupted the gravelly tones of Beck, a heavy lifter on the walls, emerging from the depths of the tent.

"I was gonna say noses, Beck, noses!" grumbled Haven, crumbling under Beck's stony gaze. Every man on the walls was scared of Beck, even the Marshals. The Kid had once seen him single-handedly take out a herd of lunkheads with his bare hands. Of course, The Kid ain't no man, so he passed under Beck's arm without a second glance, leaving the two of them bickering about conduct around children, and proceeded towards the voices issuing orders.

~~~~

Inside the tent was much warmer that the bitter cold outside.

Brushing some snow off his shoulders, The Kid presented himself before the gathered marshals, who stopped talking as soon as he came in and glanced at him nervously, hoping for news of the mission.

Nodding his head in affirmation, the group sighed in relief, as the leader, a man called Temper (a name suited to his personality), clapped the kid on the back.

"Lemaign pities us! I knew I could count on you Kid, The Mayor would have had my head if I didn't help The Mancers.” He exclaimed with vigour. “A bunch of boffins if you ask me, but what can you do?"

The Kid simply shrugged, waiting patiently for his next assignment. As if sensing this, Temper proceeded without lingering. "Normally, I would get you to help hold off the lunkheads, as something has them riled up at the moment, almost as if something is about to happen..." The Kid cleared his throat to bring Temper back to earth, and he carried on "But I have a feeling you went through hell over in the east, so all I need you to do is take care of our visitor."

 _Visitor?_ The Kid pondered, while Temper continued.

"I don't remember her name, but she's The Singer motivating The Masons building the walls. We have Marshal Low looking after her for now, you know, our only female marshal, but they don't seem to be getting along well…" Temper seemed to be waiting for a reaction, but shrugged and continued.

"And well, I thought, maybe, since both of you are the same age, you'd get along together better, and hey, maybe you'd get some rest." The Kid just nodded dumbly, following the instructions to the north, while two words rattled around in his brain.  _Th_ _e… Singer?_ How could two words fill him with some much joy, yet mean nothing at all?

After collecting his Trusty Shield from the armoury and slinging it across his back, he trudged northwards, and cast his thoughts aside, focusing on the cold nipping at his exposed skin, and the snow camouflaging perfectly in his dove-white hair. As he saw Low getting closer in the distance, the singing got louder, and the pain from his wounds fell away, and his heart lifted, filling him with a sense of security he hadn't had since he was six, with his mother in front of the fire at home. It made him feel at home.

He broke out of his trance at the movement of Low's arm's waving at him in the corner of his eye. Seeing The Kid jogging over, Low jumped up in relief. "Thank the Duke you're here! I'm bored out of my mind here, and I think the cold is getting to me." After complaining some more about how her skills could be put to better use, she gave The Kid the briefing.

"You don't really have to do anything except keep any stray squirts out of her way and talk to her at her breaks. Whatever you do, make sure none of the workers get close to her. Firstly, it distracts her from her music, and secondly, well, you know, most of them haven't seen a female in 1-5 years. Some of them might get a bit carried away, you know? And I don't think she can't defend herself like I can. So, just, keep her safe, okay?" she shouted the last part over her shoulder, while running back to the command post, her head bent against the snow.

As The Kid turned the corner to the source of the music, it stopped abruptly, as if The Singer could sense him near.

As soon as they came into sight of each other, they locked eyes, as if they could extract answers from each other via pure will-force. Their body went beyond either of their control, not moving a muscle as they stood there, staring each other down and the wind played with their hair, her hair blowing across her face, while his singed hair blew up, highlighting the spikes in it, standing them on end as they inched ever closer towards each other.

Soon, they were able to feel each other's breath on their skin.

Silence.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she reached up, and touched his cheek, scraping a fingernail across the skin. Then, without warning, she snapped her hand away. Just his luck to be guarding Zia! Surely he could be— He stopped mid-thought. What had he called her? "Um, hello? Have we met before?" The Singer continued timidly.

The Kid shook his head in response, and proceeded past her to stand in front of the harp she had dropped. Dropping his hammer down, he turned towards The Singer, sticking out his hand. She shook it daintily, her smooth skin feeling alien against his calloused hands.

"I'm Zia! I hear that you'll be guarding me from now on? I'm leaving tomorrow morning, but at least we have today to become friends!" Zia exclaimed, practically skipping towards her harp with the prospect of meeting someone new lighting up her day. She collapsed onto her stool, and started playing again, while The Kid stood to the side of his hammer, a wary hand brushing the grip, keeping an eye out for any dangers.

However, the soothing notes and melodies of Zia seemed to have a dulling effect on his senses, and his eyes drooped, his brain recalling memories of his mother that his conscious mind refused to remember, and The Kid revelled in the feeling, dancing through the memories that poured out of the songs and flowed through his body.

* * *

Zia liked him.

Not because he didn't seem to move from vigilant scouting, or because he refused food so she didn't go hungry, or because his hair seemed so beautiful, as if it was crafted from the snow drifting down.

It was because he was simple.

He didn't request songs, like most of the workers, or mind that she hadn't asked his name. He seemed so... peaceful. As if the Walls were his creation, and he was finally home.

He didn't speak a word, not to anyone, preferring to speak via gestures and meaningful looks. Most of the time, the workers looked curiously at her, until the kid started to move subtlety every time they did.

They stopped looking soon after.

She didn't understand that at all. Why were these full-grown men afraid of a Kid lazily leaning against a hammer? They seemed to twitch in anticipation when he shifted his weight, and flinched when he lifted up his hammer to change its position.

She had to admit, she was surprised that a Kid as young as herself was even permitted to sign onto The Walls, but then she saw him fight, everything came into perspective.

~~~~

There was a tavern that was near them, which neither The Kid or herself payed attention to, until she heard the last call bell ring out, and an outrageously inaccurate mimicry of her singing issued from its entrance and 7 men stumbled from the threshold, bottles in hand. Without her noticing, the kid had slung the hammer across his shoulders, standing between the men and Zia.

With a signal, he told her to stop singing.

"Carry on, please! And maybe afterwards, you and me can have some fun?" said the leader, laughing along with his friends, nudging them in the ribs.

Then, they noticed The Kid, and they froze, sizing him up.

"Well, now I'm wondering if the trouble lassie." Then, to The Kid, "Course, I've heard your reputation, but seeing you in person, you don't seem very special. There's seven of us, and only 1 of you."

The Kid just shrugged nonchalantly, not moving, waiting patiently for them to move on.

Worried that The Kid might not win, Zia got up, and tugged on his arm, whispering into his ear.

"I'm scared, just leave it okay?"

Unfortunately, the men heard, and they started laughing again, some them calling "We'll take care good care of you!"

Zia retreated back to her stool, blushing furiously with embarrassment, while the standoff continued. The Kid was about to turn away in boredom, when one of the men made his mistake.

He catcalled.

The Kid seemed to freeze up, and slowly, a menacing grin slid across his face while he held his palm up. Everyone had thought he had gone mad, until quick as a flash; he folded his thumb into his palm. Everyone stood still, confused, until The Kid put down his little finger.

He was counting down.

~~~~

Almost instantly, 3 of the drunkards choked, took one last swig of their spirits, dropped their bottles quickly, and ran away as fast as they could.

Confused, Zia turned back to The Kid, to see that he was now lingering with only his index finger up, as if giving the remaining men one last second to save themselves.

Fearing for her protector's life, Zia studied the four men as they cracked their knuckles menacingly, so she could report them to The Marshals later. Besides the frontman, there were 3 other men left. A man with an earring, who leered creepily at her when he saw her looking, a man with an ugly scar crossing his nose who smashed his bottle on the ground to create a jagged edge to stab with, and strangely, a man with no shirt, as if he had lost it while drinking the day away.

The head spoke, snapping the girl out of her inspection. "Kid, you could get hurt. I'll let you go without hurting you if you walk away now."

The Kid didn't move an inch, except for folding his last finger down.

As soon as his finger touched his palm, The Kid brought his hand up to the handle of his hammer, still resting on his shoulder, and before anyone could even follow the movement of his hand, he jumped forward and forced the hammer downward, aided by gravity, into the leaders kneecap.

Zia could hear it shattering the bone instantaneously.

Kicking the now crippled and screaming man out of the way, The Kid advanced on Scarface and the Earring Guy, while No Shirt hung back.

Scarface snarled, and lunged at The Kid, the bottle in his hand swiping through the air, but The Kid merely sidestepped, then whacked him in the face with the hilt of his hammer, making the man's head fall and hit the floor from his own momentum.

Seeing that two men were already down, the Earring guy had drawn a knife and was watching The Kid warily, until, impatient from no attacks, drove the knife towards The Kid's gut.

Zia gasped in horror as The Kid did nothing to stop the path of the deadly instrument, until at the last second, The Kid's Bullhead Shield seemed to materialise on his arm, as if summoned from his back.

The blade shattered against the impenetrable metal, and The Kid threw the man back with a push of his shield, and he fell onto his knees in front of The Kid, his head ringing and arms numb from the feedback when the metals clashed.

The Kid knocked the man out with a knee to the head.

After surveying the various bodies in various degrees of distress, The Kid concluded the danger was over, slung his hammer across his back once again, and started to drag the men by their collars back towards the tavern.

As soon as The Kid turned his back, the guy with no shirt sneaked out from behind some nearby Gasfella boxes, which he seemed to have hid behind while The Kid was occupied with the other men. No Shirt, glancing at her, put his finger to his lips with a crooked grin, creeping up behind The Kid, an ugly plank of wood in hand.

Internally, Zia scoffed indignantly. What did he think? She wasn't a threat?

His mistake. Time to show how threatening she could be.

Hefting her harp up in her arms, using the muscles gained from years of painstaking practice, Zia sprinted over behind the drunkard, smashing the harp over his head with a deafening cacophony of twanging strings and splintering wood.

The Kid whirled around, his Life-Long Friend already out and ready to strike out at the danger, when his eyes, which were previously roaming around for the disturbance, came to rest on Zia and the victim of her aggression lying at her feet, clutching his head and groaning in pain.

The Kid stared at her wide-eyed for a few seconds, before his lips twitched up into a smile, something Zia hadn't seen him do once in the few hours she had known him. He put his hand on her shoulder, nodding his head at her purposely.

Zia got the intended meaning:  _T_ _hanks._

She smiled back at him slowly to show that she understood. Seeing this conformation, The Kid took No Shirt under his arms, hefted him onto his back in a fireman's carry, and trudged over to dump him with the other various victims, who were now residing on the porch of the tavern.

~~~~

After knocking on the door a few times, The Kid reached into his pocket and turned it inside out, seemingly to pull out as many coins as he could, which, unfortunately, wasn't much. Only 1 Gold coin, 2 Silver and 5 Bronze.

After a moment of Zia feeling sorry for The Kid's financial situation, the door of the tavern creaked out, snapping The Singer out of her thoughts. What she assumed was the owner of the establishment, upon seeing The Kid, sighed, and said "How many this time?"

Looking down, the barkeep seemed to count up the bodies and then fished the right amount of coins out of The Kid's outstretched hand, leaving him with 2 Bronze coins left.

While The Kid walked back to clear up the mess made by the fight, Zia walked tentatively up to the Barman, who was now lugging the bodies into the tavern, and started to help him.

"What was all that about?" she asked, grabbing the other arm of the leader, who had passed out from the pain from his broken kneecap. The bartender smiled grimly in thanks.

"Whenever someone starts a fight with that boy, they always lose, and the poor Kid lugs them over here, pays for a room and meals till they recover, then leaves."

Startled at the revelation, she inquired further. "But why? They started the fight! He shouldn't have to pay for them!"

The man shook his head solemnly. "That boy honours the Gods. In this case, Hense, The Veiled Widow. You know, the Goddess of Pain and Pleasure. The Kid gave them the pain, so now he has to give them pleasure, or in this case, comfort as well. You can't have one without the other."

After they had dragged all the bodies inside, the man brushed his hands on his apron, and held out his hand. "Thanks for the help" he smiled. "What's your name?"

"Zia" The Singer replied.

"What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl with a beautiful voice!" he winked. The guy jabbed a thumb at himself, and continued.

My name's Rondy, and this girl right here?" He patted the doorframe and looked up at the tavern "This is The Sole Regret" He laughed good-naturedly. "Kind of fitting, considering that most people's Sole Regret when they get here is messing with that Kid!"

~~~~

When Zia got back to The Kid, and started singing again without her harp, she thought of the kid's fighting.

It was like she had seen him fight before somewhere...

Lost in singing the music, Zia reviewed her memories of the fight that had just occurred.

Slowly, the drunkards seemed to transform into Ura, and her perspective seemed to warp so she was watching from a perch, looking over Zulten's Hollow...

Zia shook her head, scattering the memories. She'd never been there! How would she know what it looks like?

The memories came back full-force, but this time, The Kid was fighting off peckers and lunkheads, while she looked on, singing to give him strength.

Zia shook her head once more, to clear it, and her singing faltered. The Kid looked back at her worriedly, looking around for danger. Smiling apologetically, she started up again, casting her thoughts aside.

The memories weren't real. It's only a dream. A fantasy of another time.

She tried to convince herself of it for the rest of the night.

~~~~

The next day, The Kid and Zia stood in front of Marshal Temper, the former bored with the trivial meeting, and the latter, well, she wasn’t looking the Marshal in the eye.

She was still worried about what her father said about The Marshals. Venn always **was** a wary man.

"Well, thanks for your help Zia, but we got to get you off The Walls. Heard there was a slight scuffle..."

Temper looked at The Kid pointedly, who merely snorted, and adjusted the bandages on his left hand and wrist. "Okay, more like a massacre, but that's not the point."

Temper directed his attention back to Zia, and held out a bag that jingled merrily as it came to rest in her palm. "Here's your pay, we'll be asking the Bard's College for another singer soon. Tell them we're sorry about the harp..."

All the inhabitants of the room looked guiltily at the remains of the harp, which now resided in a battered bag.

Clearing his throat, Temper pointed to a Skyway in the distance. "You can get back to Langston River from there. Now, Kid, I got a new assignment for you..."

Zia glanced at the Skyway, panicking. She didn't want to leave The Kid now. She didn't know why, but she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, before something bad happened...

She didn't know what would happen, but something would, she **knew** it would. An apocalypse? A... a... a... Calamity?

"Wait!" She cried out desperately. "Can't he come with me?" Both males looked at her, bewildered.

Since she had gained their attention, she carried on. "I mean, the skyway at Langston River is quite a way away from the Bard's college... Shouldn't I have some protection from muggers?"

Temper stroked an imaginary beard while sizing her up, while The Kid sent her a piercing glare that said _What are you trying to do? You literally just saved me from getting killed from behind! There is no way you need protection. If anything, you'll be protecting ME!_

Zia merely held The Kid's gaze steadily, until Temper finally spoke up, looking back at The Kid. "Well, you ARE overdue for an expedition into The Wilds, and Langston River is right on the edge of them... Hmm..." Coming to a decision, he nodded "Okay, go with her. But remember to take your bedroll this time!" he laughed, seemingly remembering the last time The Kid had gone into wilds.

The Kid rolled his eyes, growling in exasperation. Zia could practically hear his meaning, as if he was saying it out loud. _That was one time!_

Temper laughed even harder.

~~~~

Standing in front of the skyway, The Kid look morosely at the remains of the harp Zia had. He plunged his hand into his pocket, brought out his last two bronze coins, and held them out to Zia meaningfully.

She merely shook her head in denial. "It's okay. It's not actually my harp; it's only the schools. I keep **my**  harp at home for special occasions."

Noticing that the worried expression hadn't left The Kid's face, she reassured him further. "Honestly, it's fine! The College will just send to bill to The Masons!"

Satisfied, The Kid slid the 2 coins back into his pocket, and held out his bandaged hand out for Zia to hold.

After The Kid had muttered a half-hearted prayer to Olak for a safe landing, The Kid and Zia jumped onto the skyway, flying over the land that they didn't know they had missed, in the direction of the glistening river in the distance.


	3. The Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a kind of filler chapter, wrapping things up for Zia, and leading onto Zulf. For some reason this chapter has been bugging me. I don't think it's my best work, but can't for the life of me figure out what's wrong with it. (Maybe the writing is a bit stiff? It doesn't seem natural for some reason…) So if you guys have any clue about why it's bad, or have any ways to help me improve it, leave me a comment or a PM telling me. It would be most appreciated.

Unsurprisingly, The Kid landed on his face. Again.

Both The Kid and Zia  **looked**  like they were going to be able to land on the skyway plate feet-up, when at the last second, a sudden updraft flipped The Kid around in a twirl.

Un-prepared, The Kid tried to adjust, twisting himself around in the air just in time for his face to have an impromptu and painful reunion with the ground.

Wondering why Olak hated him so much, The Kid tried to get up on hands and knees, only for Zia to land on his back feet-first, almost breaking his spine.

“Oh Mother! I’m so sorry! Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead!” The pressure on his back was relieved as she stepped off him, and The Kid picked himself up. Not wanting to worry her, The Kid tried to look less like someone had just dropped an anvil on his back.

He had certainly heard something crack.

Ignoring Zia’s stammering apologies and the sharp pain in his neck whenever he moved, The Kid took inventory.

Hammer? Check. Shield? Present. City Crest? Accounted for.

Twirling out his hammer and putting it horizontal across his back, The Kid pulled forward, clicking his back several times. Zia winced in sympathy, and opened her mouth to apologize once again. Raising his hand to silence her worries, The Kid strapped his life-long friend to his back once again. He waved his hand in front of him, indicating that Zia should lead the way to the Bard College.

He didn’t need her worrying about him when they had a whole day of walking to get through.

* * *

Sighing in relief that The Kid didn’t have any hard feelings against her, Zia had started along the long road. The College’s cart had brought her to the skyway plate, but now, when she was on her way back, there was no cart in sight.

Huffing in annoyance, she continued walking with The Kid trailing behind her, seemingly bored with everything that was occurring. He didn’t even seem to be fazed by falling face-first on the skyway plate.

Almost as if it always happened to him.

He was a mystery to her. What was his name? How old was he? How was he even allowed to serve on The Rippling Walls?

She had asked Marshal Temper about the strange boy the night before they had left...

~~~~

“Huh? Why do we call him The Kid? I’ve never really thought about it.” He pondered the question for a beat. “I guess because no one knows his name!”

Zia had frowned at this. “Yes, but **why** don’t you? Have you even asked him?”

Temper adopted a rather guilty face at this question.

“Well, sure, no one’s asked him, but we kind of assume he wouldn’t tell us, considering he doesn’t speak to anyone. He’s does give off a ‘Don’t disturb’ kind of vibe, don’t ya think?”

Grumbling in agreement, she had questioned further. “What  **do**  you know about him then?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. He’s the youngest on the walls, and the only person in history to sign up for two shifts, but beyond that, nothing.”

Heating up into a rage that had given him his name at the displeasure on her face, he growled in anger.

“Don’t give me that face! I have duties! I have more important things to do that asking about some Kid’s life story!” He stormed off into the barracks, leaving Zia with even more questions than before.

~~~~

Zia reflected on the memory, and fell back to step in synch with The Kid, looking at him discreetly out of the corner of her eyes.

It was sad, she decided. People took The Kid for granted, giving him thankless work, treating as so unimportant that he didn’t even need a name.

Worse of all, The Kid seemed to have adopted the situation he was in, expecting the same from everyone. He didn’t really have an identity anymore. He was merely a conduit for other people to use and achieve things through.

Zia suddenly realised that she certainly wasn’t blameless of such a thing either. She hadn’t asked his name either! She sent a quick prayer to Garmuth for lenience on her mistakes.  

The Crippled Duke Reminded everyone sooner or later that good intentions are nothing on their own. Zia just hoped that today was not the day that The Duke chose to jog her memory...

Zia took controlled breaths and closed her eyes, bracing herself for punishment from one the least lenient of the gods.

After a few seconds, she felt a feather-light touch on her shoulder, and she jumped, startled, snapping her eyes open to see warm brown looking steadily back at her. It was almost as if his eyes had sapped all of the hue out of his hair, so that his eyes were such a vivid brown but his hair was left white with the lack of colour.

Noticing that The Kid was looking at her with concern, Zia shook her head and started walking again. The Kid jogged to catch up, and looked at her with questions in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” She stated. “I just zoned out for a few seconds”.

Judging her temperament for a few seconds, The Kid seemed satisfied with her answer and shrugged, returning to his bored perusal of his current surroundings.

Throughout the hours of mind-numbing walking Zia perused the idea to strike up a conversation, but shot the idea down before it could fully form in her mind. It’s not like The Kid would even talk to her if she asked anything, and she didn’t really have anything that she could talk for a prolonged period about.

Well, there  **was**  Ryan, a guy in her class that she had took home to see her father, but that was a sensitive subject. She hadn’t known that her father would fly into a rage against him when he spoke Ura! She hadn’t known that speaking to an Ura in their own language was an insult! Maybe she’d tell The Kid about it later on.

As if he had heard her thinking about him, The Kid stopped dead in his tracks, putting an arm out to stop Zia walking. They were nearly to the Bard College. She could see it looming in the distance. Bewildered, she stopped.

“What is it?” She whispered, looking around apprehensively.

The Kid merely shook his head and put his finger to his lips, his ears perked up and straining to hear something. Suddenly, a group a teenagers around her and The Kid’s age rounded a corner of the street they were walking down.

Recognizing them, Zia’s heart sank.

This was the penance Garmuth had charged her with for her arrogance. Considering The Duke’s judgements, she was thankful that she was not being Reminded instead.

Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for the hell she was about to endure.

* * *

The Kid was rather bored, which is why when the group of teenagers came into his line of sight, he brightened up considerably.

Teenagers had always amused him, as they seemed to think that their insults were supposed to elicit a response from him. He’d heard all of the jabs anyone could ever make at him by the time he was 7 years old, so it provided him with some entertainment when a supposed bully thought that they had come up with an original insult.

However, on reviewing the situation, The Kid felt a pang of worry settle itself in his gut.

Zia seemed like she recognized the group, and wasn’t too happy about it. Battle instincts kicking in, The Kid situated himself subtly in front of Zia, and surveyed the students while they were still ignorant of the duo’s presence. He wasn’t too happy to confirm that out of the 3 people, there were 2 girls.

Now, The Kid didn’t really have much trouble with girls, considering how little time he had interacted with any, living on The Walls. However, from the time he had spent at school when he was younger, he had been witness to how spiteful they could be, especially to other girls.

Guys had an unspoken code of honour when trading insults or blows. Don’t hit someone when their back is turned, don’t bring physical appearance into it, and NEVER hit below the belt. Anyone who broke those rules was risking getting shunned and alienated by every male they knew.

On the other hand, girls, as far as he knew, had no such guidelines, and he had frequently spectated situations where girls seemed to go for the low blows first, their words cutting straight to the bone faster than any weapon.

The Kid had always tried to step in as fast as he could, and that was how his own bullying started.  Of course, The Kid was able to develop thick skin pretty fast, so he spent most of his time (in what was quickly nicknamed the “Losers Corner” by the rest of his classmates) comforting various girls, rebuilding their self-confidence.

There was only ever one who did the same in return. A girl named Nacie. The Kid wondered where she was now... _Ugh._ That should hardly be his focus at the moment. Casting a faded memory of daisy chains and crystal barrettes to the back of his mind, The Kid refocused his eyes on the group once more.

~~~~

By this time, the group had seen the duo, and were making their way over to them, laughing.

Feeling the tension radiating off Zia, The Kid laid a finger on the back of her arm. Not enough contact for her to be uncomfortable, but enough to assure her that she wasn’t alone.

“Who’re you with Zia? This your Grandpa?” The Kid just rolled his eyes. Looks like they were going back to the classics. Always the hair.

The brunette piped up. “I mean, everyone has a ugly relative, but him? Zia, honey, I see where you get your ‘looks’ from.”

The Kid’s mind wandered under the speech. This was old territory for him. Maybe he could buy a few vineapples for his expedition into the wilds… Then he remembered 2 bronze coins he had left. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

Grumbling, The Kid tuned in his ears once more, to catch the end of a sentence. “Did Ryan finally dump you? Took him long enough. He was probably only talking to you out of pity!” 

 _This has gone on long enough,_  the kid thought, stepping in between Zia and her aggressors. Acting as a physical barrier to soften their cutting words, he turned half towards her and awkwardly patted her shoulder.

Living in an environment for 7 years where any sign of weakness got you considered a ‘wuss’ and ‘not fit for job’ (The Kid rolled his eyes at the thought, even now), He had become rather unpracticed at comforting someone. At The Walls, you had to create and retain the image that you were tough, and if you didn’t, you got treated like..... well, a Kid.

So, unsurprisingly, despite The Kid’s courageous and heart-felt shoulder pat, Zia’s expression did not seem to change even a fraction.

Hearing a series of gasps followed by muttering, the kid sighed in exhaustion. Now he had to deal with THIS.

Sure enough, when he flipped around to glare at the group, their eyes followed his back, where the crest of Caelondia lay. _Here it comes._ He thought  _“Where did you get that?” “Did you steal it?” “You do know only marshals are allowed to have them right?” “Aren’t you a little young to be doing any work?”_ Groaning to himself, he rubbed his palm against his forehead, bowing his head down.

These past few days were taking their toll on him, not that he’d ever say it. He’d had literally no sleep, his joints ached from running around and swinging his hammer. And now? Now a headache was forming, which, thinking about it, was probably due to his unique and spectacular lack of luck in landing skyway jumps.

Looking up through his eyelashes, he was met with 3 shocked faces, each with their mouth hanging open.

Mother, he wished this day would just end.

“You’re that Kid aren’t you?” the guy breathed out slowly. “You’re THE Kid” The Kid crumpled his brow in confusion.

He’d been called a variety of things in his time: Son, Man, Dude, Grandpa. However, this was new. Sure he’d been called ‘Kid’ before, in several contexts. But this was different. It’s was like a title. Something to be revered.

“He’s here to escort me home from The Walls” Zia interrupted, her expression mirroring The Kid’s. It seemed she was just as confused as he was. The teenager must have noted their expressions, for he carried on.

“Oh come **on** , Zia! Surely you’ve heard the stories? It was on The Pecker Mail’s front page ages ago!” The boy put on an announcers voice. “ _Read about_   _the only Kid on The Walls! Defending The City as well as any man triple his age! The ONLY Second-shifter!"_  One of the girls piped up. “That’s you?” she asked, eyes sparkling with something The Kid couldn’t quite place. “Everyone wanted to be you when we were younger!”

Now, The Kid normally never got angry, no matter what the situation, but that sentence grated on his nerves. They thought it was cool to go through what he had? To have to provide for his mother at an age no-one should work? To not even be present at the death of his mother, when he thought he was saving her life? To lose himself so much in his work, that he forgot if he was a mute by choice or birth?

Pushing the fury deep into his gut, The Kid schooled his expression, then sent a look to Zia to let her know that it was time to leave. She took one look at the dangerous expression on The Kid’s face, and brought the trading of stories to an end.

“Well, it was nice catching up, but we really must be going.” Zia grabbed The Kid’s hand, dragging him behind her. “Go?” pouted the redhead, looping her arm through The Kid’s free appendage “But don’t you want to tell us all about your exploits on The Walls?” she cast a dirty look at Zia. “Leave this white-skinned trash and stay with us!"

 _" **ENOUGH"**_  The Kid shouted in his mind. Shaking off the Redhead and turning around, he gave them all a death-glare, and started to adjust the bandage on his wrist around his knuckles.

They shut up pretty quickly.

“Thanks.” Zia breathed, after she had succeeded in dragging him a few blocks down. “But you don’t need to fight my battles for me”.

But The Kid had had enough of listening to people’s empty pleasantries. He shrugged her off, and started along the path once more.

In the end, everyone was the same in his eyes.

No one ever asked his name.

* * *

It was noticed quite early on in the history of Caelondia that music seemed to placate the beings of The Wilds, so much so that the animals seemed to protect the singers and musicians from any outside source. Because of this revelation, the Bard’s college was constructed on the very edge of The Wilds, keeping them at bay, so the rest of the city could go about their daily business without interruption.

Sure, the Rippling Walls were a huge deterrent, but the bard’s were the real power behind the protection, stopping The Walls being ripped apart by the relentless tide of nature. As such, all of the performance areas had open-ended roofs to let the music being played spill over the surrounding area.

Zia, who was used to the continuous music throughout the campus, walked up to the reception, with The Kid wandering behind, buffeted by the noise while his ears adjusted.

“Hey there, I’ve come to drop off a harp I borrowed?” She paused, warring with herself on how to proceed, when The Kid cut off any decisions by dumping the splinters and broken strings that were once a harp all over the counter.

The attendant merely raised an eyebrow, flicking a splinter off her lapel with the charcoal pencil in her hand.

She didn’t look impressed.

“The Marshals are asking for another Bard. Make it a male, if possible.” Zia stated, having the courtesy to look guilty.

The attendant didn’t speak, starting to push the remains of the harp into the bin next to her. “I’ll come back later to sign in.” Zia threw behind her, dragging The Kid behind her, out of the double doors into the plaza.

~~~~

“I’m going to get hell for that when I get back” Zia cringed. “Though then again, I’ve not broken as many harps as Roberts, so maybe I’ll get off easy, right?” She turned hopefully to The Kid, who hummed absentmindedly, looking as if he was thoroughly bored with the way the day was turning out.

Unfortunately, her worrying caused her to lose focus on where she was going, which was only remedied by The Kid’s subtle pushes on her shoulder, elbow and waist, navigating her around the various people milling around the plaza.

However, despite The Kid’s guiding hand, it wasn’t long before she smashed forehead-first into a man’s chest.

“Zia! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”  Snapping her head up, her vision was filled with a view of her father, Venn, hair dishevelled, face red with exertion. “We need to talk, quickly. There’s been some-”

He stopped abruptly, looking in shock at The Kid, who nodded to Venn in recognition. Venn narrowed his eyes at the gesture, grabbing his daughter’s wrist in worry.

Zia, wanting to diffuse her father as soon as possible, went to introduce The Kid. “Oh, Daddy, this is... uh...” She stalled. She didn’t even know his name. Luckily, her father, saving her from what could be an extremely awkward moment, cut across her sharply.

“We’ve met. It was an...” He paused, testing the words on his tongue. “Interesting experience. What wonderful luck meeting you again, accompanying my daughter!”

He didn’t look very sincere.

“Almost makes someone wonder if it IS by chance. Have you, i wonder, been talking to The Authorities lately?”

Zia took offence at that. “Not everyone is out to get you dad! Not everyone is like Ryan!”

This seemed to pull him out of his paranoia, shaking his head. “It matters not. Nothing will matter soon.” He turned to Zia sharply “We need to talk.” Glancing to the side at The Kid, he added: “ **privately.** ”

Zia paused, occupied with watching The Kid hammering out a miniscule dent in his shield. “Can’t he stay?” Seeing The Kid shake his head (probably due to it being a family matter), she put on the puppy dog eyes.

She had been worried at how unhinged her dad was becoming ever since Ryan. Muttering late into the night about a Calamity, sketches on how to re-route wires scattered in that cursed journal of his. She was scared of him, what he might do.

She directed herself towards Venn once more. “Besides, it’s not like he’s going to talk, he hasn’t since I’ve met him.”

Venn paused in a breath. “He didn’t when I met him either. Maybe he’s mute?”

The both looked expectantly at The Kid, but he seemed to have lost interest again, feeding the birds in the square with some bread.

Venn shrugged, leading the two of them to a secluded back street.

~~~~

“Zia, we need to leave for Zulten’s hollow, tonight. The Machine is almost complete, and we need to get out of here before they turn it on.” He muttered. “Because of  **someone** -" he frowned at The Kid. "-it’s closer to being finished than I expected. I was hoping the inevitable Gasfella attack would set back the project enough for me to have the time to tamper with it, but...” he reflected for an instant. “Things changed.”

He sent a scathing look towards The Kid, only to notice he was dragging a young man from around a corner of the street towards the two family members. Once The Kid had dumped the man at their feet, Zia recognized him instantly. “Ryan?”

* * *

The Kid had seen him peeking around the corner in the reflection of his shield, and pounced immediately. He had no tolerance for eavesdroppers.

Despite the man being older than him, the ensuing silent struggle was short and painless. The eavesdropper had no fighting form to speak of, and The Kid had the element of surprise on his side.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, The Kid ignored the squirming and kicking. Shaking his head at the cries of “I was just leaning against the wall!” and “I was just passing by!”, The Kid pushed the man to the ground in front of Venn.

Zia seemed to notice the man first, blurting out “Ryan?”. Hearing his name, Ryan looked up, saw Zia, and morphed his face into a winning smile.

“Zia! Long-time no see! How are things! Maybe you can clear some things up with this thug.” He grimaced, and jerked his head to gesture to The Kid.

“He just attacked me for no reason while I was passing! Seemed to think I was spying.” He flashed a patented smile which seemed to daze Zia for a second, until she closed her face off, ignoring his utterences.

“The only thing I could be accused of spying on is your beauty. You’re looking positively radiant today!” Glancing at Zia to see the reaction, The Kid raised his eyebrow in skepticism.

By and large, The Kid was as gentlemanly as a guy could be, but even **he** wasn’t seeing the so-called ‘radiance’ Zia was exuding. Her hair was puffed out and frayed from the trip on the skyway, her clothes were full with splinters from the remains of the rented harp, and curiously, there seemed to be a layer of dust over her, which for all intents and purposes, The Kid couldn’t even begin to explain.

As much as The Kid liked Zia, no matter how pretty he thought she looked to him generally, right now he could say with a sure tone that she did **not**  look radiant.

Ryan seemed to notice this obvious fact a fraction of a second after The Kid, and was proceeding to revise his statement when Venn seemed to snap in rage. _Uh oh._

If you have ever had the pleasure of making a multi-lingual individual angry, you will be privy to the fact that they revert to their original language. For Venn, this language was Ura, which, surprisingly, The Kid had also learnt the dialect for after meeting a Ura hunter in The Wilds.

* * *

**A/N: Any dialogue in Bold from now on is spoken in Ura.**

* * *

" **YOU TWO-FACED DIRTBAG! I HOPE YOU GET LOST IN JAWSON BOG, YOU WASTE OF MATTER. MY DAUGHTER TRUSTED YOU!”**  Venn screamed into Ryan’s face, utterly terrifying him. 

 **“I should kill you right now. You’ve caused my family too much trouble already. Manipulating my daughter, insulting me in my own home! Olak knows what might have happened if you had the chance to get away. I should kill you.”**  He voice dropped an octave, leading into weary resignation. 

 **“It’s not like it matters. Not of it matters. What’s one more death over the billions I’m already going to cause? I should just kill you.”**  Venn picked up Ryan, and went to slam him against the wall, when he was intercepted by The Kid, one hand skimming the shaft of the Hammer on his back in warning.

Grumbling, Venn threw the trembling man to the ground. **“Yeah, yeah, I know. Thanks for stopping me.”** Nodding his head in confirmation, The Kid lowered his hand.  **“Wait, you know Ura? You understand me?”** Venn cocked his head in confusion. Smiling and shrugging, The Kid gestured to Ryan, his meaning more than clear. 

 _What do we do with him?_  

Venn grimaced, then jabbed the eavesdropper in the neck, causing him to collapse over onto the floor, face-first.

“What did you do? What were you talking about?” Zia cried, running over to Ryan and checking his pulse. Tracing his jawline in thought, Venn answered. “Don’t worry; he’s only knocked out, not dead. I hit a pressure point.”

He ran a grizzled hand over his face. “With any luck, he’ll wake up and think that it was all a dream. Doubtful, but there’s always a chance.”  _Obviously, he’s not privy to the bad luck that haunts me._  The Kid thought cynically, picking up the snoring man with the help of Venn, and dragging him to an empty table in a nearby tavern, Zia trailing behind in confusion.

~~~~

“We need to buy him a spirit, but I’m a few coins short of the amount needed to get one.” Venn sighed, patting his pockets. “Have either of you got any spare change on you?”

Plunging his hands into his pockets, The Kid brought out his last 2 Bronze coins, and dropped them into Venn’s open palm, who stared at them in wonder. “This is the exact amount I needed, how did you-?” He halted mid-sentence looking at The Kid as if he was some kind of science experiment.

Seemingly casting it off as yet another inconsequential coincidence, Venn bought a spirit, and then proceeded to pour it all over Ryan’s unconscious form, leaving the bottle clenched in his fist.

Surveying the proceedings, The Kid had to hand it to Venn, the man was smart. Now, when Ryan woke up, he’ll smell of alcohol, in a tavern. Eventually, he would come to an obvious conclusion. That he had been drunk, therefore increasing the chances of him passing the past events as a dream, and ignoring the memories of the previous half an hour.

~~~~

When the Trio made it back outside, dusk was settling in. Startled, Venn looked at a complex contraption on his arm, and grabbed Zia’s arm in quick succession.

“We have to go, or we’ll lose our chance!” He stated urgently, glancing at The Kid.

Seeing this, Zia turned and attacked The Kid with a full-frontal hug. “Thank you so much for being my friend. I’ll miss you.” She mumbled into his shoulder, while The Kid awkwardly patted her on the back.

The odd contraption on Venn’s arm chimed, and the old man called out to his daughter once again. “We have to leave NOW.” Extracting herself from The Kid reluctantly, she followed her father, who battled with himself over something for several beats, before throwing some Ura over his shoulder for The Kid to catch. 

**“There were too many coincidences these past few days, have you been noticing? Something’s happening. Watch your back.”**

With Venn’s parting words ringing in his head, The Kid waved to the family in the distance. Neglecting a nagging feeling of a danger lurking just out of sight, The Kid Walked leisurely back to the boat-yard on Langston River, where he could get a ferry directly into the wilds.

Pulling his carry-bag from his back, The Kid rummaged around for his Boat-pass. _D_ _on’t tell me I forgot it._ The Kid groaned in exasperation. _ARGH. I remembered my Bedroll this time, but forgot my Boat-pass!_ _"_ Sitting down on a low brick wall along the side of the street, The Kid cradled his head in his hands weighing up his options for a few seconds.

This was just not his week. Now he had to take the long way around. On a skyway. And he always knew how those trips ended.

With his face in the dirt.

Hefting himself off the wall, he strolled towards the nearest skyway. It’s not like he was in a hurry to get a head injury. He had two choices. The Sundown path or The Hanging Gardens. Both had Marshal-exclusive skyways to The Wilds.

Ultimately, The Kid went for the scenic route, through The Hanging Gardens.  _Who knows."_ He contemplated, stepping on the plate, getting shot up into the sky.

_Maybe I’ll see a proposal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wanted to clear some stuff up, which I couldn't really fit into the chapter without it feeling more unnatural than it already does. The Kid can understand Ura, but can't read it, which is why, when he eventually found Venn's journal, he couldn't understand it. And yes, Ryan was the 'Young Man' referenced in The Singer's Dream.


	4. Zulf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know about you guys, but I always found it pretty funny that The Kid always fell on his face without fail, as you've probably noticed by the openings to each chapter. Oh, and I've decided to call Zulf's fiancée Rose for ease of writing.

This time, as if the Gods wanted to tease him, The Kid landed almost a metre away from some cushions residing on the floor that would have certainly given him at least some semblance of a soft landing.

Moving his jaw to check that nothing was broken, The Kid sat up, noticing the revelry around him. Couples were dancing, lively music was playing, and The Kid could smell the intoxication in the air.

The Hanging gardens were always popular, but this looked like a full-blown party. The Kid didn't even know if that was even allowed, but by the looks of things, nobody was really complaining.

Interestingly, there were quite a few Ura present. Sure, there were a decent amount of Ura in The City, travelling there for work and the like, but they were rarely seen concentrated in large groups. It normally got The Authorities nervous. Apparently, they never had trusted The Ura after The War, and had instructed The Marshals to keep an eye on them, and break up any supposed ‘suspicious activity’.

The Kid scoffed internally. Yeah, these Ura sure looked like a threat, he observed, as one seemed to literally trip over herself standing up.

Pushed along with the flow of the crowd (which unsurprisingly, seemed to be heading towards a bar), The Kid looked around futilely for the marshal-exclusive skyway.

He knew it was around here somewhere. Around the Ura-Caelondian war memorial.

Unfortunately, he couldn't see over the mass of people, and it wasn’t long before he got swept up in the dancing. A lady grabbed his hands, and started spinning around with him in a circle, smiling and laughing, and when she let go, and The Kid spun out of control, dizzy with the motion, staggering around, the red and blue blurs of the lanterns dotting the area permeating his unfocused vision until he fell back into a wall head-first, swiftly knocking him out.

~~~~

Blinking to get his eyes in focus again, The Kid had no idea where he was. This was just getting better and better.

He smashed his hand in frustration against the wall next to him, the jarring pain clearing the rest of the dizziness from his vision, and distracting him from the throbbing at the back of his skull.

“What did the wall ever do to you?”

Looking over, The Kid walked over and sat down next to a young Caelondian man on a bench, who, despite the seat, still seemed to have a problem with his balance. Leaning forward abruptly, the drunkard emptied his last few hours of drinking onto the floor between his shoes, groaning.

Grimacing in sympathy, The Kid grabbed the man’s empty tankard, brought out his flask of water filled the cup with the clear liquid. Leaning the man back with a gentle hand, The Kid lifted up the tankard for him to drink from.

Swishing water a few times throughout his mouth, the man spat it out onto the ground to the side, ridding himself of the taste of vomit. Bringing his head once again, the man hungrily drank up the rest of the water.

 Smiling, The Kid let the tankard fall to the floor. Now, at least, the man wouldn't wake up with too bad a headache.

“M’name’s Lloyd. What're you doing here, instead of the party?” A voice issued out of the man once again, his head lolling back against the wall the bench was against, an eyelid cracked open, peeking at The Kid. He didn’t wait for an answer, however, continuing on with whatever tirade he was about to give.

“You know, I’m happy for the guy, you know? Always was The Survivor that guy was.” The Kid shifted almost imperceptibly, the title causing him sorrow and rage in equal parts.

Lloyd, in his mania, didn’t notice, not missing a beat. “Did you know that he used to be a street urchin? But now he’s fitting right in! Part of The City now, part of the family!” His eyes glassed over, staring at the stars that were starting to come out in the dusk. “His message of peace is inspiring… Maybe it **is**  time to put The War behind us, start anew!”

He picked up his tankard again, raising it up and tapping it against The Kid’s head. “I’ll drink to that!” Then, he noticed that the cup was empty.

“Or not” He pouted.

“I’m Rose’s younger brother by the way, in case you didn't know.” He smiled.

The Kid merely raised his eyes, adopting a rather perplexed expression. _What the hell are you talking about?_

Lloyd roared in laughter, jumping up and spreading his arms out wide, indicating the celebrations around them. “It’s an engagement party! And a damn good one at that! Great spirits, great entertainment, and all for my sister and the best man I’ll ever know!”

Grabbing The Kid’s hand, Lloyd dragged the boy through the throng determinedly, speaking non-stop. “They only got engaged a while ago, but it was a long time coming.” He halted for a second, pondering something. “They’d probably go off their rocker without each other to bring them back down to earth.”

Lloyd stopped short in front of a petite woman with bright blonde hair. The woman turned around at the sound of Lloyd clearing his throat, and surveyed The Kid with green eyes.

“This is Rose, my sister” Lloyd introduced. “This Kid was just wandering around aimlessly, thought he might like to meet you!”

Rose beamed, extending a dainty hand with a shining ring on it for The Kid to shake. “Nice of you to come and say hello, despite your reasons travelling through this place. It’s a lovely evening isn’t it?”

She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes. “I would introduce you to my fiancée, but he seems to be-”

A crash issued throughout the garden, and the three present snapped their heads towards the arch that signified the entrance of the terrace.

There stood a Ura man swaying with the faint music, breathing heavily.

For some reason, The Kid didn't think the man would be thrilled to see him.

* * *

Zulf had lost count of how many drinks he’d had after the 7th, so his memory was starting to become a little faulty.

He was having delusions of being back in the Tazal Terminals, speaking to the senior Ura, informing them of something… He didn't know.

He staggered up to Rose, reaching into his pocket to bring out the ring. “Zulf, what are you doing? Have you had too much to drink?” Rose soothed kindly, stroking his arm slowly. He merely shook off her hand, and knelt down.

“No, no, I just need to ask you this one thing, I’ve been putting it off for too long. Just this one thing.” This was his chance; he had to ask her now. He presented the little box and opened it for everyone to see.

Inside was… Nothing.

Zulf looked in horror at the empty box, and started scrambling around on the floor looking for the ring.

He couldn't have lost it! It was in his pocket the whole time!

“Ah, just wait a second…” He stammered, looking pleadingly up at his love, then rapidly returned to his search. “Oh come on, I can’t have lost it, please don’t tell me I’ve lost it.”

Faintly, in the background, he noticed that Lloyd started laughing uproariously at his actions. “We should probably tell him.” Rose said to her brother.

Zulf had no idea what they were talking about, but he had more important things to focus on, so he half tuned out his surroundings.

“He’ll figure it out eventually.” Lloyd replied. “And besides, it’s pretty cute.” A third party snorted in agreement, and at the sound, Zulf zeroed in on the boy, narrowing his eyes.

“Who are you?” he demanded of the intruder. He knew a street rat when he saw one, and this Kid was trouble. All he was going to do was bring Zulf more and more grief.

“Did you steal it? Where is it?” He started advancing on The Kid menacingly, shrugging off Lloyd and Rose as they grabbed his arms, trying to pull him back. “TELL ME WHERE IT IS!” Zulf roared, storming at The Kid.

Despite the Ura’s normally mellow attitude, Zulf was certainly a sight to behold when angry, capable of destroying pretty much anything. However, The Kid didn't seem to be worried, a fact that made Zulf reconsider at the last second. Nonetheless, Zulf already had built up momentum, and barrelled into the teenager.

The Kid stepped to the side at the last second, grabbed his arm and twisted him round to run back towards his sweetheart in a fluid movement.

Dizzy from the sudden turn-around, Zulf collapsed into Rose’s arms, his mood changing instantaneously as he saw a ring on her finger. He’d waited too long. Looking up in sorrow at his beloved, Zulf whimpered.

“Are you already married?”

Rose laughed, and responded, grinning “No, Zulf, I’m not married. But I **will** be!” Zulf slumped in defeat. Someone had asked her first. Now what was he supposed to do?

“To you.”

Zulf could almost feel the gears cranking in his head. Putting two and two together, he jumped up in delight, raced over to The Kid and lifted him up into a bear hug.

“I found my ring! I’m getting married!” The Kid huffed in annoyance, and Zulf put him down, turned around in a circle, and then launched himself at Lloyd.

“I love you, man!” He spoke into Lloyd’s shoulder, hugging him close. “We’re going to be brother’s in law, isn't that great?” Lloyd patted Zulf on the back weakly. Noticing that he was choking his friend, Zulf jumped in shock, released Lloyd, lost his balance and fell back onto his posterior.

Bounding up once again, he seized The Kid’s arm, and started towing him towards to entrance to the garden. Pausing, Zulf strode over to his wife-to-be and pulled her towards him, pressing his lips against hers urgently. Pulling away reluctantly, he caressed face.

For some reason he didn't want to leave. This might be the last time he would see her again.

However, Rose chuckled, pushing him away gently. “Go on, show The Kid some of the sights, I’ll still be here when you get back.” Dutifully following her directions, Zulf grabbed The Kid’s arm once again, hauling him through the crowd of party-goers towards a bar on the outskirts of the festivity.

“I’ll see her again” He kept repeating to himself, over and over.

For some reason, it wasn't very reassuring.

~~~~

Sitting on a stool next to the bar, and indicating that The Kid should do the same, Zulf started talking with vigour.

“You know Kid, I used to be like you. Wandering around with no direction, only surviving because that’s all I knew.” He shifted, leaning his chin in his hand, staring off into the middle distance, reminiscing.

“But then I met a man, a good man. We came to this wonderful city, with all of these beautiful people, and I even met Rose!” He extended a finger, and jabbed it lazily at The Kid’s chest. “It could happen to you too, my friend.” He payed The Kid (and his smirk of disbelief) no mind as he cast his eyes up to the sky, tracing constellations in his mind’s eye.

“Sometimes I miss my homeland. The sights to behold, the talents to see.” He murmured in worry. “They sent me here you know. On a mission of peace, to reconcile our nations, and forge forward together.”

Zulf looked at The Kid in a new light. The boy’s presence was messing with his head for some reason. “It’s weird, you’re too young to have been part of The War, but I can still picture you fighting Ura…” Damn, he must be even more drunk than he thought.

“I swear I've seen you before.” The words tumbled from his mouth, his inebriation loosening his tongue. “But then again, we've never met under particularly nice conditions, have we, Kid?”

Zulf clutched his head in pain. He was supposed to get a hangover in the morning, not now! Memories assaulted him, grief, relief, anger and hurt. Then, just as soon as it came, it disappeared, and Zulf forgot everything again, at bliss in his ignorance.

* * *

The Kid was concerned for his new-found acquaintance.

It looked like a whole nights drinking was finally catching up to him. The Kid watched warily as Zulf held up a hand to get the barkeep’s attention, reaching into the depths of his cloak to find his money. “Two Bull Brandies if you would be so kind my good sir!” He chortled, jovial once more. Zulf accepted the drinks, and handed over the coins, nudging one of the cup’s towards The Kid.

Being polite, despite the fact that he hadn't even asked for a drink, The Kid picked up the tankard and clashed it with Zulf’s. “To peace, and a bright future!” The man cried, bringing the tankard to his lips, starting to chug.

While his bar-mate was pre-occupied, The Kid chucked his drink into a nearby plant. He needed to be on top form tomorrow morning, and a hangover would do him no favours. And besides, he mused, watching the liquid soaking through the soil in the pot, Spirits always seemed to give him weird side-effects.

Turning back to Zulf, the Mason was amazed to see that the diplomat was still gulping down his brandy. Unfortunately, Zulf leant his head and body back too far, and the stool he was sitting on teetered.

He fell like a rock.

The Kid reached out his hand too late, and the Ura man crashed into the ground with a sickening thud, his now-empty tankard skittering away across the paved floor.

Wincing in sympathy, The Kid waved away the bartender, and stood up over the unconscious form of Zulf. For a second, Zulf’s form seemed to flash, now sporting various cuts and bruises, on the edge of death.

The Kid blinked, and saw Zulf normally again. He passed it off as a trick of the light. It was happening more and more lately.

What should he do now? On one hand, he’d caused The Kid enough trouble already. Throwing this party so he couldn't find the skyway, attacking him when he didn't even take the ring.

But still, he couldn’t just leave the man here, passed out on the floor. He’d just got engaged for Acobi’s sake.

Rumbling in defeat, The Kid hefted up Zulf, and threw him over his shoulder. He couldn't very well take the guy to his home, since he didn't know where he lived, so he’d have to look for somewhere safe to stash him.

Since the bar was on the edge of the party, The Kid could now see the Ura-Caelondian War memorial in the distance. Perfect! He could put Zulf underneath there on his way towards the skyway!

Adjusting his body into a more comfortable stance, The Kid set off. Half-woken from whatever had knocked him out (the alcohol or the impact on the floor, The Kid didn't know), Zulf started to sing deliriously in his stupor. The Kid tuned his ears to it, and he almost dropped Zulf in his shock.

‘Mother, I’m here’. A funeral song.

This was all too familiar.

The Song.

The Man.

The Walking.

The Ura Warriors.

Wait. What warriors?

The Kid twisted his head towards the Crossbowman that had appeared out of the corner of his eye, only to be greeted with empty space.

Great. Now he was hallucinating. Absolutely perfect, just what he needed!

Turning back towards the path, The Kid witnessed an arrow whistling straight towards his chest. Stumbling back in pain, he barely kept control of his balance, Zulf’s singing muting his other senses. Looking down in horror at his injury, The Kid gaped at the lack of blood, wound or crossbow bolt.

What the hell was happening to him? More and more disturbed by the second, The Kid regained his balance and trudged onward, futilely trying to ignore the ghost arrows piercing his skin, despite wincing at each imaginary laceration.

The Kid halted in front of the War Memorial, his body wracked with fictional pain. He swore that he could feel the arrows sticking out of his body, despite the fact that none existed. Maybe he was losing his sanity.

Heaving open the heavy door to the base of the memorial, The Kid dragged Zulf down into its depths and propped him sitting up against a wall.

As soon as Zulf was dropped, The Kid felt all the pain leave his body, once again a forgotten memory. Finding a blanket and a few dusty cushions, The Kid set them around the man, creating a makeshift bed. He’d be fine down here.

The Kid couldn't do anything more for him, the boy had his own duties.

Clambering back out of the hole, The Kid pushed the metal door back into place, and dusted his hands off on his trousers. Another job well done.

Getting his sense of direction back from the notable landmark, The Kid Jogged off in the direction of the marshal-restricted skyway plate. Time for some well-earned rest and recuperation. He was looking forward to a peaceful week trudging through The Wilds. No more failed skyway jumps, no more fetch quests and no more fighting. Stepping onto the skyway plate for what he thought was going to be the last time in a long period, The Kid allowed himself to grin slightly.

Everything was going his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, Comment and give me Kudos if you want to (i'm not going to force you), and I’ll see you guys later.


	5. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the last scene of The Kid’s hallucination in Jawson Bog as The Kid’s last moments in The Old World, because I’m pretty sure that is what the scene represented. The last chapter will be up by the weekend.

The end of the world came to pass in a hushed silence.

* * *

Zulf roused himself in his stupor, opening his eyes a fraction.

All he processed was that he was somewhere dark and it was warm. The Survivor snuggled deeper into the blanket covering him, clutching it tighter in his fists. It felt like he was home in an Ura Den. Safe, underground.

Resting his head back against the floor, his intoxicated thoughts floated towards his fiancée. Her beautiful blonde hair. The way she laughed, tipping her head back, as if thanking the stars for humour. Her hands and how they steady him in his times of need. The way she looked at him, as if she knew him wholly and completely, and still loved him.

He would lose himself without her. He didn’t know how he had survived in the days prior to meeting her. She was everything to him.

Feeling sleep starting to overtake him once again, he let his eyes drift close in peace.

In his last moment of consciousness in the Old World, Zulf let out a breath that was carried in the wind.

“I love you”

* * *

Rose climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her body, relaxing. The bed seemed so empty without Zulf by her side. She had last seen him dancing off into the crowd with that Kid. She sighed. He would probably find his way home by tomorrow, and then they could plan the rest of their lives together.

Rose smiled, twisting the diamond band off her finger and resting it on her bedside table. She fell asleep watching the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight.

Her last thought would be of her fiancée.

Nothing would separate them.

* * *

Zia was in a state of panic. Her and her father had been caught by The Gravers due to Ryan. They had been too slow.

Her father had struck a deal with The Authorities, allowing her to go free. He had smoothed down her hair lovingly, and looked her straight in the eye.

“Hurry home to the den and lock yourself in.” he pleaded desperately.

She had not even stopped for a breath on the way home, scurrying into the basement, and pressing herself into a corner, following his directions to the letter. Tears flowing freely, Zia cried into her arms. What was she going to do now? She didn’t want to play the harp for faceless people for the rest of her life.

Noticing the blurred outline of something next to her foot, she blinked repeatedly, wiping her face of tears. It was her father’s journal. Gathering it towards her chest, she choked back a sob.

She fell asleep cradling her last physical connection to her father.

There was no one who cared for her anymore.

* * *

The Attendant for the Bard’s college leaned her head back on the chair, and dusting off the last shards of the harp that Zia had left there, propped her feet up on the desk. She was on the night shift, but she didn’t mind. No one could be bothered stealing anything from the College, so she could relax. At least here she didn’t have to deal with her noisy neighbours waking her up in the middle of the night.

Tomorrow was her day off, and was also pay-day. She was going to meet up with her boyfriend, and they were going to that new restaurant on the Sundown Path. He’d been hinting for a while that he was going to ask her to marry him, and she couldn’t think a better time than then.

She pictured the moment in her mind’s-eye, drifting off.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

* * *

Marshal Temper cricked his neck, and spread the papers across his desk. He’d been getting a lot of reports about the squirts acting strangely. They were congregating in groups, and a large amount had disappeared beneath The Walls into their burrows.

Like anyone, Temper knew that animals seemed to be able to predict a disaster before it occurred, whether it be a earthquake, tornado or worse, so this behaviour disturbed him greatly. However, the Gasfella family were not exactly animals, so he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t need to worry his men anymore that need be. They were already rattled enough.

But as an experienced man, Temper knew he was deluding himself. He could taste a charge in the air, calm before the storm. All they could do now was wait.

Pulling a new stack of paperwork towards him, Temper started rifling through it, losing himself in his work.

There was much to do.

* * *

The Kid took the ore he had gathered so far, and packed it in the wagon to send off to the Rippling walls. Gathering some wood from the pile, and building up the fire, he settled down on his bedroll, letting the subtle heat wash over him.

Here, in the wilds, The Kid could fool himself that he was a normal person. No dead mother. No speaking difficulty. No dangerous job. Just a boy on a school trip to see the wildlife. But that could never be a possibility for him. The God’s had forsaken him to a destiny full of destruction, regrets and mistakes.

Clasping his hands over his waist, The Kid chuckled slowly in derision. The last few days had certainly washed him out. He was so tired, he felt like he could sleep through the apocalypse.

He closed his eyes and fell into a slumber, a single tear running down his face while a familiar person plagued his dreams.

A frail woman with white hair like his own.

* * *

Rucks stumbled after the Gravers who were dragging Venn into a secure holding area. Tapping the head officer on the shoulder with his cane, he demanded to talk to the imprisoned man.

“Venn. Can you tell me what’s going on?” Rucks sat down in a chair opposite the Ura, shaking his head. “You disappeared without warning, and now you’re being accused of treason?”

Venn leaned forward in earnest, trying to get as close to Rucks as possible, but started on a completely different tangent.

“Do you remember that kid? The one that stopped the Gasfellas?”

Rucks merely nodded. How could he forget?

“I met him again. Purely out of chance. And he was with my daughter. Apparently he protected her on The Walls, even deterring her bullies when he was escorting her home.” Venn eyes gleamed with manic excitement, but Rucks didn’t understand. “Why is this important?”

Venn merely ignored his question, and carried on, his speech quickening with urgency. “He caught the same snitch that ratted us out. He could understand Ura. He had the exact amount of money I needed. He owns a City Crest. He beat the Gasfella’s against impossible odds. He met Zia directly after he met us. He saw me again in the right time and the right place. Doesn’t all of that seem a little far-fetched to you?”

Rucks was starting to catch on.

“Coincidences like that don’t just occur. I’m pretty sure it’s got something to do with The Machine.” He inhaled. “It’s all connected somehow. Me, you, Zia and that damned kid. If only I had the time to figure it out.” Shaking his head, he changed the direction of the conversation.

“Everything is going to end soon. The Machine, it more powerful that anyone knows. When The Authorities turn it on, the whole world will become undone, twisted upside down.”

Rucks noted, with some displeasure, that Venn had said ‘When’, not ‘If’. But the old man knew that the scientist was right. The Authorities wanted to get rid of The Ura for good. Nothing would stop them this close to their goal. Not even the warnings of the creators of the machine itself.

“Me and you, we’ve worked in tandem for many years. You’re a good man, just trying to help your country. **We** are going to be responsible for all of the death to come.”

Rucks deliberated for sustained period. “We can stop it.” He declared with determination.

“No, we can’t.” Venn said. “How would we even convince them to stop? They don’t trust me, and would never take advice from an old man such as you.” Venn grieved solemnly, but Rucks just tapped the table in thought, mapping out his idea. “My own creation. The Bastion. It has a failsafe installed in it.”

Venn’s eyes widened in hope. “What will it do?” he demanded.

“Reset everything. Back before all this. We would have more time to stop it. Sabotage The Machine so it doesn’t work. If we remember.” Rucks hesitated.

Venn, noticing, looked at him in suspicion. Heeding the unspoken question, Rucks revealed all he knew. “It needs power. Lots of power. Not enough that we can gather in time.”

Time. It always came down to time. There was never enough. They were always too late.

“What if I could give you more of the time you need?”

Rucks snapped his head towards Venn. “How?” Ruminating, Venn got up, and paced around the room. “There should be an area free of the effects. Directly around The Machine, so that it doesn’t destroy itself. It would be a small cross-sectional area, like a bubble, but there’s a chance.” He stopped in the middle of his strides, eyeing Rucks, seemingly judging his proportions. “Maybe if you sucked in your gut, and pushed yourself against the machine as hard as possible.” He grinned wildly “There’s a chance. There’s a chance!”

Right on cue, a Graver walked into the room grabbing Venn roughly, pulling his arms behind his back. “Time to go. Looks like your efforts are coming to fruit.” Leading Rucks outside, pushing Venn in front of him, he led them to the shelter, where congregates of officials were gathered to see the end of a race of human beings.

Rucks felt sick.

Living in Caelondia, he had been brought up to distrust The Ura, and, sure, he still held some bitterness over The War, but this was too far. The Ura weren’t a threat anymore. They were peaceful. How must Venn had felt, building his people’s destruction?

It didn’t matter. They could stop it. He could stop it.

Dragging himself out of his reverie, he listened in on the altercation between Venn and the Mayor. “Does anyone else know how to turn it on? I don’t want you over there. Who knows what you might do to our final chance at victory.” This was their chance. Venn piped up, signifying Rucks. “My associate Rucks has the skills available. I just need to give him some last minute adjustments.”

Hurrying over to the old man, Venn gave him a beseeching stare. “My daughter is going to survive. I made sure of it. Promise me you’ll take care of her for me, in case it doesn’t work.” Rucks felt like something was lodged in his throat. “It’ll work.”

Venn laughed without mirth. “I know it will my friend. Just promise me.” Rucks held out his hand, grasping Venn’s firmly. How many times was he going to have to watch everyone die? Banishing the stray thought to the back of his mind, Rucks chewed on his tongue in nerves. “I promise” Why did that feel like a death sentence?

Limping towards the machine, Rucks sighed wearily. He was old and he was weak. When was he going to be able to retire? He’d given more than enough to his city. His body to The War. His mind to The Mancers. And now he was giving his friend’s life for The World.

Reaching the console, he twisted the knobs and dials to their proper position. He pushed back a feeling of dread, occupying himself by checking the cooling system. Everything was ready. He turned around and faced the bomb shelter. He saw the mayor nod his head. Pressing himself a hard as he could against the unnaturally cold side of The Machine, he hit the button.

As everything turned white, the last thing he saw was Venn mouthing words to him.

“Tell her stories about me.”

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, the end of the world was not heralded by Fire, Brimstone and screams of pain, but by a deathly silence.

It swept over the world, shattering the land, and preserving the people. The only ones who survived where those who were deep underground, safe from the deadly force.

Zia, in her basement, huddled in the corner, sleeping.

Zulf, in The Ura-Caelondian War memorial, leaning against the wall, covered in his blanket, passed out from the alcohol.

Rucks, safe in the Eye of the Storm, blinded by The Calamity taking place.

The majority of the Ura, sleeping in their Dens, embedded in the earth, unaware of the atrocity attempted upon them.

But what of The Kid? He had nothing to protect him. He was lying out in the open, peacefully dreaming as everything turned upside down. The Calamity swirled around him, but never touched. The ground dis-assembled and re-assembled. The Sky broke, leaving nothing but infinitum. Ash clogged the air completely in a second, and then disappeared in the next. His Life-Long Friend and his Trusty shield were ripped from his side.

But The Kid never stirred.

He slept on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever found it weird that everyone who survived The Calamity was beneath the ground, as evidenced in Who Knows Where, but The Kid didn't have any protection at all? I always wondered how he’d survived. I also found it pretty suspicious that we met Zia, whose father was the person who created the calamity, who Rucks (who had created the only thing capable of fixing everything) knew. And all of them survived and met up. It all seemed too big a coincidence to me, so I tried to incorporate it in here. Let me know what your theories on either The Kid surviving or the coincidences are!


	6. The Morning After

Proper story’s supposed to start at the beginning. 

Ain’t so simple with this one.

This story’s a circle. Repeating over and over, going through the same motions. Where’s the beginning in that? Well, everyone knows of  **one**  place to start from.

Destruction.

The only problem with destruction is that it means different things to different people.

* * *

 

For Zulf, Destruction meant the loss of everything he had ever loved.

~~~~

The Survivor had woken up to silence.

He had climbed out of that memorial to see hell on earth.

The sky was gone, replaced with the ground. The ground had disappeared, interchanged with the heavens. He breathed in, choking on the ash floating in the air. Time seemed to have stopped. There was no wind, no rain, no sun. The ash clouded around him, blotting out his vision.

He walked forward a few paces with his eyes sealed shut, afraid of what might come. After a few seconds, he squinted through his half-closed eyelids to see that the ash had gone. It had relocated, and seemed to be floating down upon him.

What manner of Calamity had twisted the world in such a way, destroying this great city?

He ran through the streets, only his voice accompanying him as he shouted for someone to answer him. In his desperation, The Survivor tripped over a loose cobblestone in the pavement, coming to crash as someone’s feet. He cried in relief “Oh, thank The Mother, I thought I was the only one!” Looking up in eagerness, he was met with the jovial face of Lloyd.

Except it wasn’t him.

His eyes were vacant and grey, his skin flaking at the small drafts Zulf made while moving. Yelping in fear, Zulf scrambled back, colliding with a wall in pain. Zulf’s was-to-be brother in law seemed frozen in a laugh, joy on his face. A shadow of his former self.

Screaming in grief, Zulf dry-heaved onto the floor until a clear thought pierced through his mind in desperation.

Rose.

Clambering onto his feet, Zulf took one last look at Lloyd. “I’m sorry”.

He hurried home, averting his eyes from the expressions of the statues he past, haunted by their last moments.

He burst into his house in a flash. “Rose?” he whispered, too terrified to shout.

“Tell me you’re okay, you have to be okay. Please be okay.” He sobbed.

Opening the door to their bedroom slowly, he sighed in relief at the sight of his love lying serenely in their double bed, eyes closed. Collapsing on his knees if front of her, he lent his head against the side of the bed, taking deep breaths.

If she was okay, he was okay. They could deal with this together. Everything would be fine. They would be together. That’s all that mattered in the end.

Looking up, he frowned in concern. She hadn’t moved or breathed in the time he had been there. Deciding it was time she woke up, Zulf stroked his hand lightly across her cheek. Only then did he notice that his fiancée was grey not due to the shadows, but due to the ash she was made of.

Rose began to crumble slowly from the point where he touched her.

Zulf watched on in horror as he saw his everything unravel before him.

Her ashes floated up from the bed, free from her body, flowing out of the open window to join the sky. Or was it the ground beneath his feet? Everything seemed to be twisting in on itself. Zulf felt he was losing his mind. There was nothing for him to hold onto anymore.

He had no idea of what lay ahead without Rose. He would no longer grow old with her, no longer raise children with her.

No longer was he able to love her.

Zulf retraced his steps to the beginning of this nightmare, looking up into the sky, pleading with the gods for a sign to carry on.

 ~~~~

Zulf didn’t want this to be a beginning of a story. He just wanted it to end.

* * *

 

For Zia, Destruction meant a fresh start.

~~~~

The Singer had woken up with dry tear streaks down her face, hugging her father’s journal to her chest.

She sat up and wiped her face clean with some water from the wash basin against wall. Walking up the stairs from the basement, she walked into her and her father’s kitchen. She guessed it was her kitchen now, considering her father was in custody. Looking around, she noticed that there was no food anywhere. Gathering herself, she took a deep breath and got up to go out and buy some breakfast.

She had barely got into the hallway before the front door crumbled into ash and sunlight streamed in. Shielding her eyes from the unexpected brightness, The Singer walked out of her house and into a shattered world. Her whole street was gone. She couldn’t even see the bard’s college in the distance. There was nothing but floating rocks, set against a cheerful sunlight.

Rushing back into her house, she gathered up her harp and then started walking forward, exploring this new plane of existence. She seemed to travel a thousand miles in an hours walk, the ground changing terrain much quicker than would have happened in The Old World, leading her to an destination she assumed was in The Wilds.

It didn’t look that wild, however, so it must have been close to Langston River before everything changed. A place that was close enough to society to be safe, but far away from the city enough so that it could still be labelled as part of The Wilds.

Resting for a moment in a clearing, she brought out her harp, starting to play.

Slowly, Peckers materialized around her in hoards, attracted from their nests by the music. Zia wasn’t scared very easily, and she knew that the birds meant her no harm. They were just curious. Like any animal, they were neither good nor bad. They merely wanted to survive and protect their young.

However, Zia knew the power music had on the creatures of The Wilds, studying at the Bard’s College for all her life. If she used the right notes, maybe she could coerce the peckers into helping her.

After a while of tweaking her tune, Zia lead a flock of Peckers back to her house like a pied piper. Getting them to carry her cooking pot, tent and some blankets and cushions, she smiled, travelling back to the clearing.

She didn’t know where anyone else was, or what they were doing, but she didn’t care anymore. No longer was she going to live on someone else’s terms. She knew what fruits she could cook, and which she could eat raw, and there was a spring back in the clearing that she could drink from. She could get the peckers to protect her from any other animals that got too close for comfort. 

She knew what to do. This was the first day of the rest of her life. She could take care of herself.

 ~~~~

Zia wanted this to be the beginning of a new story, one where she could do what she wanted, allowing her to craft her own ending.

* * *

 

For Rucks, Destruction meant guilt.

~~~~

The Stranger collapsed in a heap on the floor of the observatory, panting from sucking in his gut.

He stood up, leaning on his cane, and looked over the edge of the observatory, surveying the devastation that had occurred.

He saw the Tazal Terminals floating in ruin, and felt tears stream down his face.

He had done this.

He had joined The Mancers after the Ura-Caelondian War to prevent the atrocities he had witnessed in his fighting days from ever happening again. But all he had done was repeat his mistakes. That was all he was ever going to do, over and over.

He could feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t want to see anymore death.

But, no. He couldn’t grieve. Grieving meant nothing. He still had finished his duty, his job. It could still be fixed. There was still a chance to break the cycle.

The Bastion.

He could go there, get the cores, and everything would be all right. But he couldn’t just yet. There were some things he had to finish off first. Rucks walked over to the viewing area, where he had last seen Venn, The Gravers and The Mayor. All that was left was a few smudges of ash breezing along the floor.

Kneeling down over the ash pile he deduced was Venn’s, he picked up some of the ash, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. It looked like these people were too close to the machine to be preserved, being vaporized instantly by the force instead.

Standing up once again, he slammed his cane into the floor in rage, cracking the deck. Closing his eyes in front of Venn’s ash pile, he started paying his respects, until he heard a blast from the flooring that The Machine was sitting on.

He turned around slowly, trying to make no sudden movements that might attract attention to himself. Taking in the scene slowly, he started to back slowly towards the direction he hoped the skyway was in.

Almost a hundred of Gasfellas were ripping apart The Machine. Rucks didn’t know if they wanted the core inside, or even if they just wanted to destroy the agent of the apocalypse for its crimes, but one thing was for sure.

He didn’t want to argue with them.

Unfortunately, as quiet as Rucks was, one of the Gasfellas looked his way, noticing him, calling to his associates with that strange tongue that only the Gasfella family understood.

Time to skip town.

Cutting his losses, Rucks grabbed his cane quickly and dashed for the skyway. However, the winds had been changed by the calamity, and he was whisked into the sky as soon as he got within a few strides of it, the winds no longer constrained by the skyway plate that people used to step on to travel.

There was nothing dignified about how Rucks was carried throughout the air. There was no discipline in the transportation, getting flipped and spun around with no order. Luckily, he still seemed to be able to direct himself, so he headed towards The Bastion haphazardly, grunting with effort.

Finally coming within reach of Caelondia’s safe haven, the air dumped him on his back, next to the monument. Groaning in pain, the Mancer pushed himself up off the ground with the help of his cane, propping himself up between it and the monument. He tested out his leg, and hissed in pain at the stabbing throughout his calf.

Looks like he’d pushed it too hard when running to skyway plate.

Now he would need his cane even more than before. It would take at  **least**  a week for it to heal up to its previous (albeit still damaged) state. A week he couldn’t afford. Who knew how much worse the world might be after a week?

He needed to act fast, get those cores quick and clean, before anything happened to them. God knows some Gasfellas might take it, or a scumbag could even swallow one whole!

But there was nothing he could do. His leg was more shot that it usually was, so he wasn’t going to be able to travel long distances for a while. Then, when he thought that all hope was lost, the monument started humming beneath his hand.

The creator of the structure furrowed his brow, putting his ear to the metal, and knocking it with his fist. The metal seemed to resonate with energy. Thinking for a moment about the cause, Ruck’s face lit up.

A Crest! There was a Marshal alive!

Thank god, everything was going to be okay. The Marshal would come to the Bastion, as everyone in Caelondia was warned to in case of trouble, and he could instruct the man or woman to set out across the City, collecting up the shards. He didn’t have to do this alone.

Rucks made himself comfortable at the entrance to the Bastion, waiting for his saviour to come strutting in with self-confidence.

Imagine his surprise at being confronted not with an adult, but with a Kid, who on top of everything else, fell flat on his face.

~~~~

Rucks didn’t want this to become a beginning of a new story; he wanted rewind to the previous story, hoping to alter the ending.

* * *

 

For The Kid, Destruction meant nothing.

~~~~

The Kid opened his eyes in a snap, allowed his irises to focus for a spell, then gazed up at the heavens, and the objects floating in them, seemingly unsupported.

He was unperturbed by the sight shown to him. He honestly tried to muster up some semblance of worry, but it just didn’t seem to appear.

Who could The Kid worry for anyway?

His mother was dead, he’d never known his father, he had no friends to speak of, and The Marshals were nothing to him other than bosses. How can a Kid mourn for a world when he had nothing to begin with?

He sighed and closed his eyes once again. The world could wait to be saved for once. He’d had enough of being at its beck and call.

He snoozed for a while, unmoved from his previous position, lulled into half-consciousness by the up and down motion of the rock he was sleeping on bobbing up and down in the air.

Then, The Crest of Caelondia on his back started vibrating. He sighed once again. Sounded like The Bastion was requesting all points to converge there. The City was once again calling on its loyal subject to serve.

The Kid did not disappoint.

He got up.

 ~~~~

If he was being honest, The Kid didn’t really give a damn about stories. Who cared if this was a beginning or an end? As far as he was concerned, he’d heard them all, in one form or another. They all ended up the same way. Told over and over to different people at different times.

Repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s the end. I’m sorry if i made The Kid kind of mean, but it fits in with his attitude in the game. We never see him react to The Calamity. He just seems to roll with it, like he doesn't really care either way. Course, then he sees some stuff, and gets rattled, as shown in Jawson bog. But yeah, comment if you want, kudos and all that stuff. Feel free to check out my other works, if you want to! Later.


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